"The Nerd Behind the Throne" by Miriam Rozen

Ever since Dick Morris' toe-sucking antics stole the front pages from an otherwise eventless Democratic National Convention in 1996 and Mary Matalin and James Carville elbowed their candidates out of the spotlight, journalists have been catching on to a very postmodern principal: the machine that cranks out the Political Spam is much more interesting than the Political Spam itself. Miriam Rozen takes this concept and runs with it in her excellent profile of Karl Rove, who managed George W. Bush's two successful gubernatorial races and is taking a strong role in his bid for the presidency.

Bush's Dick Morris is a nerdy, middle-class guy who, unlike his candidate, has had to work his way up the political ladder. Rove is paid to simultaneously sedate the press, reel in the cashola and win the hearts and votes of the American people. It's a strange job: He knows what it takes to win an election, but doesn't possess that quality himself.

Rozen does more than just profile one political consultant: she offers pointed, skeptical commentary on the businesslike m.o. of the modern-day presidential campaign and the apathy of journalists who are content to regurgitate every consultant-orchestrated soundbite.

The bad news is, stories about the brilliant lives of political consultants still do little to illuminate the Big Issues Affecting us All, such as: Did George W. Bush once stand on a table in a topless bar, masturbating onto a crucifix with a vial of coke dangling from each nostril, or did he not? (Note to George's lawyers: I made that up). But if campaigns were about issues, Rove would be munching on raw cabbage outside the unemployment office. The hope is that in taking apart the machine, we can better understand the evolved, though not necessarily improved, state of our democracy. Rozen's article is a good start.

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The Stranger (Seattle), May 12-18

"Into Gothic Air" by D. Travers Scott

The "Sick Fuck of the Week" Award goes to D. Travers Scott, who holed him or herself up in a house on an island for three weeks and read every novel ever written by the three sisters Brontė. The only fate I can think of worse than this would be to be a Brontė sister. To Scott's credit, the final report on this sick and twisted experiment is far more amusing -- and brief -- than the experience must have been. We're spared the horror and left with delightful nuggets like this one: "Today I learned that Haworth is the town where the Brontės lived -- it's also the name of my next book's publishing company. Strange coincidence; a supernatural air grows thick around me." And this summary of "The Tenant of Wildfell Hall" by Anne Brontė (of whom that delightful reader's compendium, "Benet's Reader's Encyclopedia," writes, "It is possible that neither of (her) books would be remembered today if she were not the sister of Charlotte and Emily"): "A smart woman makes a stupid choice. She learns; her choice gets stupider and eventually kills himself. To keep men from turning into stupid choices, you should make them fags. 2,498 pages." I feel compelled to add that this article is published in conjunction with a 15-hour "Jane Eyre" celebration that includes a madwoman-in-the-attic screaming contest. Yaaaa!

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Village Voice, May 12-18

"The Force Will Always Be With Us" by J. Hoberman

First things first: It is George Lucas' job to hype his own movie; all filmmakers do it for films of all budgets, audience and scale. So if critics want to snark about how goddam over-hyped "Episode I -- The Phantom Menace" is, then they can start by quelling their own impulse to ramble on about it for page after boring-ass page. Aside from the trailers, I've seen little advertising devoted to this movie -- but, oh sweet Jesus, take a look at your local newsstand or Web site. Editors are hyping "Phantom Menace"; Lucas is just responding to their requests for interviews.

That said, J. Hoberman's piece on the much-anticipated, sure-to-sink-"Titanic" blockbuster-to-be is hype. Contrarian hype, but hype nonetheless. Yes, "Star Wars" was a big movie; it impacted culture; it changed movies; it made a few little boys wet their pants. It is not a religion. And the new movie? I've seen it. It's not bad, but I do think it's a little, well, over-hyped.

"Rebel Without a Smoke" by Donna Ladd

A recent Eddie Bauer ad features a famous photo of James Dean, only with the cigarette Photoshopped out (funny, nobody ever thinks to remove his sports car). Donna Ladd reports on the debate over whether it's wrong to alter historic images. What this debate and Ladd's article miss is the bigger question: Would Dean want to be peddling T-shirts for Eddie Bauer? Did Einstein really Think Different? Did Fred Astair truly prefer a Hoover? Then again, perhaps it's too late to be asking.

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New Times L.A., May 13-19

"Return of the Teenager" by Glen Gaslin

Glen Gaslin supplies the world with another long-winded piece on teen culture, with all the requisite references to "Dawson's Creek," Teen People and the queen of bland blondness, Reese Witherspoon. While Gaslin is an entertaining writer and his commentary on what the writers and producers of hit television shows are saying about teenagers today is more pithy than most of this sort, who the hell cares? Even Gaslin himself admits that little of what he's writing about has any long-term, cultural significance. Of course, it's better than those op-ed screeds about teen outcasts listening to Marilyn Manson while polishing their semi-automatic handguns. I suppose well-written pop culture think pieces clobber simpleminded punditry any old day. Still, I think our man in L.A. should take a cue from our friend in Dallas, Miriam Rozen: deconstruct, baby. From what post-pubescent minds are these entertainment products spawned? And why? The teenagers love the deconstruction, man. It sells! And teens, they're big these days, in case you hadn't heard. Really big.

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Phoenix New Times, May 12-18

"Mystery Men" by Serene Dominic

Speaking of teen pop culture, perhaps like me you've been wondering whatever happened to the boppin' harmonic duo the Everly Brothers. Or perhaps not. But I've always loved the guys, and Serene Dominic's fun where-are-they-now piece is as sad and interesting as any I've read. "Wake up, little Susie! Wake up!"

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